


Stand On My Throat

by jingundersen



Series: Stand On My Throat: A Dema Theory [1]
Category: Jumpsuit - Fandom, Nico and the Niners - Fandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 17:03:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15466029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jingundersen/pseuds/jingundersen
Summary: Timber is a resident of the city of Dema, obedient and rigid. The individual has nothing to offer by the standards of the nine Bishops, but he has a plan to overrule and override to find the one they call Clancy. Through a shocking journey through the Trench, Timber will find his sense of self and gain a lifetime partnership with a myth come true.





	Stand On My Throat

**Author's Note:**

> Hello,
> 
> The writing is my own work (Timber and the realm of what happens in Dema) but the world of Dema and the themes respectively belong to Twenty One Pilots.
> 
> Thank you and enjoy!

The sun was a bleak shade of red as it sank into the horizon, desperate to get out of the city everyone knew was toxic. It seeped into the washed-away stained glass of the church, the haphazardly put back together picture irrelevant and unimportant. The uniform breathing was heard throughout the high ceilings, tempting any one person to watch what they have reaped from that day forward.  
Timber sat in the front pew, a grainy chestnut oak that darkened his clothes into nothing. He sat up straight, making sure that the rules of the clergy were enforced so ridged that he felt it in his spine. His name would be called soon by the Bishops to deem him a citizen of Dema, like a yearly resurrection for those who may have forgotten why they were a resident.  
Dema was a city of cement, a ridged stony lonesome for millions of homebodies that are forced into a mold. With walls so high that it sometimes blocked the sun, it kept the rebels out and the conformists in check at all times. No one really knows the origins of Dema or how long it has been around, but we all know how to keep it in the high regards for safety.  
Timber felt the intensity of his body posture shock his nerves. He had trained himself to reserve his facial expressions to one of sheer seriousness. Through the idea that he would be untouched but only by the hands of the clergy he had avoided his anxiety completely and prevent the formation of sweat. Sweat promoted nervousness, and nervousness meant doubt. The Bishops hate when you doubt them.  
The residents of Dema never leave or have never left their entire life. Many had been born into Dema, their childhood manipulated into a uniform life that many have taken up for the sake of the clergy. Each person who grows up shows physical signs of aging and developing, but no one ages or flourishes above what the clergy and the Bishops decide. It all comes down to how individuality can be given to the highest ranking peoples, and what the others are left with.  
“Gather, we announce the assimilation of Leath, Timber.” The cloaked voice said, clear and demanding. The ambience of the slight echo of the voice ushered Timber up to the front, ready to accept the blessings and the wishes from the following clergy. Timer sat up bold, his lengthy earthy hair tucked out of his face to expose the neck, the target point and the lifeline of every citizen. He displayed his tranquility through the shutting of his eyes, enabling the clergy to promote him the willpower and the strength to obey.  
Keos, the main Bishop, beckoned Timber over, his arms swallowing the room as they expanded, the biggest thing in that room. His velvety robs imitated waterfalls of blood, hanging of his thick frame like intimidation. He took Timber into his hands, placing his washed-out hands on Timber’s neck. Cool to the touch, Timber recognized the hands as giving, focused, full of virtue, and well-intentioned. Timber breathed in the staleness of Keos, letting his duties as a citizen flow through him. Moments past. In order to move onto the next process, Keos must feel your acceptance. Acceptance that you are meant to obey and that who you are will not falter. Timber acknowledged the tingling in the heels of his foot from the pressure, and simply let it go.  
He moved down the line, the nine Bishops of the clergy touching different parts of Timber’s body as he melodically marched forward. They illuminated his body with the energy of triumph, of confirmation. Lastly, Timber moved on to Looms, the last of the clergy. Looms is the most dedicated of them all, putting his heart and soul into the beliefs of the clergy and the vows of the religion. The assimilation was complete. Timber would be allowed to go back to his seat only to sit through another hundred assimilations.  
Assimilations happened in hundreds. The Bishops believe that in small batches they can make their citizen’s keep believing, keep believing that their slavery to the system is worthwhile. Each a location unique, the clergy curated which locations would be best for each human’s origin. This created the illusion that someone with limited human reaction felt loved, to feel textbook emotions that contribute to the overall wellness of these citizens. The Bishops outweigh the odds of an individual being compromised versus the population gain. We rarely speak about how a citizen is taken out due to compromise.  
Timber ignored the humidity that his linen clothes were holding in, batting his eyes in steady ways to convince the clergy that he was for them. But to be for them would be to dismiss temptation, but temptation was realness. He felt like he could possibly be the only real human in all of Dema.


End file.
